


Too Much Talking

by Styfas



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Anal Sex, Captain Crozier calls from his cabin, M/M, Masturbation, Swearing, but I didn't think that merited a true character mention, voyeurism - sort of.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:55:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28960572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Styfas/pseuds/Styfas
Summary: Summary:  Thomas Jopson has been called to the captain’s cabin – again – which leaves Harry Goodsir standing with his drawers down in the Great Cabin.  Frustrated, Harry takes matters into his own hands.Terror Bingo fill:  Sexual Frustration
Relationships: Harry D. S. Goodsir/Thomas Jopson
Kudos: 8
Collections: The Terror Bingo





	Too Much Talking

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I thank [Drac](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drac), who introduced me to The Terror in the first place, and who support me by reading (not exactly beta reading, but "filtering" - if that makes sense) my supposed final versions of fics. 🧡 
> 
> Harry Goodsir and Thomas Jopson are both adorable - and thus, I ship them. Fight me! 🤣
> 
> DISCLAIMERS: I do/did not know the real Harry Goodsir, Thomas Jopson, or Captain Crozier, RIP to all. 💔 Their corresponding "characters" from AMC The Terror belong to AMC, writers, producers, actors, and anyone else who had anything whatsoever to do with that TV programme.
> 
> This is fiction, and I'm not making any money from this.

_“Jopson!”_

Harry Goodsir groans. It’s the captain calling. _Again._ And just when things were _finally_ getting good. 

Seven thrusts; Harry counted them. Seven. He was _so close_ … and now, the thrusting has come to an abrupt stop _._

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” Thomas says, distributing his words between panting breaths.

“I know, go ahead,” Harry says, doing the same. It’s a supreme struggle for him to follow up with, “I understand.”

He almost wishes that Thomas would just pull out quickly, without ceremony, and be on his way. But no, the man is purposely taking his time, exacting sweet torture by sliding his cock out excruciatingly slowly, inch by glorious inch, from rigid shaft to velvety-soft contoured head. At the sensation of the head’s reverse nudge exit from his hole, Harry makes a sound that’s half-pleasure, half-disappointment. He’s been left empty, and yearning for Thomas to miraculously change his mind and plunge right back inside him again.

Still bent over the table in the Great Cabin, his drawers pooled down around his ankles and his cock still stiff and red, Harry listens while Thomas puts himself back together. The drawers and trousers are pulled up and buttoned. Braces are restored to their former positions. The burgundy jumper is donned and smoothed down. Thomas’ shoes click against the wooden floor as he steps away to head off to the captain’s cabin, while clearing his throat.

“Wait,” Harry whispers, standing upright. “A kiss before you go?” He shuffles away from the table to give Thomas room to meet him face-to-face. 

Thomas walks back quietly and tenderly frames Harry’s face with hands. “You know what our problem is, Harry? You and I talk too much.” With that, he kisses him.

_“Jopson! Where are you?”_

“Coming, Captain!” 

Thomas lowers his eyes to Harry’s erection – which hasn’t yet begun to wane – and says, “You look incredible with your trousers down – but you do need to get dressed. ”

Harry smiles. “Tomorrow, then?”

“With less talking before.” Thomas eyes Harry’s cock again and says, “And I wouldn’t mind switching roles.” He winks and leaves for the Captain’s cabin.

A capital idea. If they should find themselves in opposite roles tomorrow night, and the captain calls, Harry will assuredly _not_ stop; he’ll pound even faster and be sure to finish the job. 

Harry holds his breath until he hears the door to the captain’s cabin sliding closed, then lets out a huge sigh. 

Thomas is right, of course. They do talk too much.

For all the talking they’ve done in six months of sitting side by side in watercolour class, it’s remarkable that whenever they meet in the Great Cabin on Terror, they _talk –_ and then talk some more – before moving on to other activities.

Even so, after four consecutive nights of Let’s-get-to-know-each-other-better-than-we-already-do-before-we-finally-get-around-to-fucking-like- _Oryctolagi-cuniculi_ (that is to say, rabbits – although Thomas would most likely say _bunnies_ , because he’s just that adorable), Harry was certain that tonight was going to be _the night._

A night of only seven thrusts, as it turned out.

But why should tonight be any different? Ever since the captain fell ill, it’s been their routine: Harry trudges through the snow in sub-zero temperatures to come to Terror, he and Thomas talk (too much!), they may snog and cuddle, they may – or may not – feel each other up and then make attempts at baring skin, the captain inevitably calls for Thomas, off goes Thomas to answer the call, and Harry immediately goes back to Erebus, frustrated.

Harry looks down at his now-starting-to-droop cock. Enough: tonight _will_ be different. He won’t going back to Erebus immediately. He checks his waistcoat pocket and is pleased to find that he remembered to bring a handkerchief, which he pulls out and keeps in his left hand for the time being.

No leisurely session this; Harry craves a quick climax, and he’s still aroused enough that it shouldn’t take but a minute, if that. He reaches down, wraps his right hand around his cock, cups his balls with his left, and pleasures himself like he has so many times before in the last twelve months when allowing himself to fantasize _like that_ about Thomas Jopson _._

He strokes in his tried-and-true way when wanting to come quickly: a rapid and feather-light touch up and down the shaft to start, and as his cock stiffens up, a swift transition to a firmer grip and a more frenzied pace. Eyes shut tight, a whirl of fantasy images and sounds fill his mind: Thomas blowing him… Receiving Thomas in the same way he had tonight before things went awry… Giving Thomas a fleeting tease of a hand job before climbing on top of him and fucking him, face-to-face… Thomas’ facial expression and sounds of surrender at his moment of no return…

Harry bites his lower lip; he’s almost there, and he’ll need to stay as quiet as possible. Seconds later, he’s over the edge, spurting cum into his handkerchief. He steadies himself with one hand against the tabletop, his knees locked, heart racing, and ears pounding, until the waves of pleasure subside. 

He stands still for a moment, eyes still closed, until he gains full control of his breath. One last sigh, and then he slowly opens his eyes to come back to reality.

Reality in this case being that Thomas is standing not five feet away from him, and grinning from ear to ear.

Harry jumps back a step. “Shit!” He shoves his handkerchief back into his waistcoat pocket.

“Keeping busy while I was away?”

“I didn’t think you’d… I thought you weren’t going to… I’d assumed you wouldn’t… and I didn’t hear you…” Harry hastily pulls up his lower garments as though the man he faces has never seen him naked from the waist down before (which, of course, he _has_ – but still, embarrassment can have that effect on a man who’s been caught wanking off unawares).

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” Thomas says. “As it happens, the captain only wanted to remind me of some duties for tomorrow. It didn’t take long.” He chuckles. “And neither did you.”

“I didn’t want to wait until I got back to Erebus,” Harry says as he buttons up braces and trousers. “I _couldn’t_ wait, and I got carried away. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“ _I’m_ not,” Thomas says. “Now I know exactly what to do for you when you want a hand job.”

“A quick one, yes. But it would be quite different if I wanted it slow,” Harry hints with a smile.

“I see. Then you’ll just have to show me sometime.” Thomas does quick up-and-down of his eyebrows. 

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me.”

“But… I didn’t know you were watching me just now. Are you suggesting-”

“Goodnight, Harry.” Thomas gives him a quick kiss and returns to the captain’s cabin, sliding the door closed behind him .

The cheek! It’s probable that Thomas had no reason to return to that cabin. But Harry knows he’s stuck; he can’t follow him, he can’t knock at the door, and he can’t call out after him. And the man did say Goodnight.

Harry gets dressed and makes the cold journey back to Erebus, thinking about what tomorrow night’s visit may bring. 

There will be less talking, and plenty of snogging. They might, if lucky, finally see each other totally naked. From there, will they assume the same roles as tonight? Switch off, perhaps? Thomas said he wouldn’t mind. Harry wouldn’t mind, either…

There’s the possibility that he’ll be asked to repeat his “performance” of tonight. Could he do it, _knowing_ that Thomas would be watching him? _Studying_ him, in fact? He’d consider trying, but fears he may be unable to get his cock to rise to the occasion if he becomes too self-conscious…

Maybe he could talk Thomas into their doing it together: Harry for himself, and Thomas for himself. Or they could do it for each other, simultaneously. A friendly wager could be made for either scenario; the winner being the one who comes first. Better yet, maybe the winner should be the one who _doesn’t_ come first…

Surprising that they haven’t tried blowing each other yet; Harry would be equally happy to give or receive… 

Too many things to consider and picture in his mind. So many possibilities… 

Although Harry’s not certain what might transpire tomorrow night, what he does know is that when he returns to the warmth and isolation of his cabin on Erebus, he’ll be bringing himself off for the second time tonight.

Slowly.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
